Who Needs Love?
by amyniknak
Summary: Ron had never understood girls. One second they were all over you ,well, kissing you on the cheek at least, and the next they’d be sending bloody canaries at your head. RonHermione. DH spoilers. Complete!
1. One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N – At the moment, this fic will mainly be made up of a lot of little chapters about what happened after that kiss. I'll guess I'll update when I feel like it, and if people seem to want me to continue. It's mainly just to keep me going through these long summer months where it's doing nothing but rain where I live. Grrrrr.

_One._

Ron Weasley lay back on his bed, his hands behind his head. He was back home, after so long. It felt so weird, there was just too much to think about. He wished he could escape out of his head for a while.

Hermione had once said he had the emotional range of a teaspoon. At the time she'd probably been right, as she always was, but it certainly wasn't true any more. He had too much emotion to deal with now. There was the grief, after losing his brother Fred, there was jubilation at having defeated Vol…You-Know-Who, the disbelief at everything that had happened, and there was also a little bit of complete and utter shock.

He couldn't believe Hermione had kissed him. Maybe it had been a dream. That would certainly make a lot more sense. Everything to do with the final battle seemed to merge together whenever he thought about any of it, so maybe he'd imagined the single best moment of it all. But then again, when he closed his eyes, he could hear basilisk fangs falling, he could see the determination in her eyes, and he could feel her lips on his, he could feel his face getting hotter.

Love. It was a weird thing really. Who even invented love, he thought to himself. Obviously some stupid sadist who had made it his life mission to torment people. And whose idea was it to make girls how they were? Ron shook his head. He had never understood them. One second they were all over you (well, kissing you on the cheek at least) and the other they'd be sending bloody canaries at your head when you tried to move on.

He'd never liked Lavender like that though. He'd just felt he needed to, well, show he wasn't totally pathetic when it came to snogging and stuff. Even though he was. He realised now he just hadn't been kissing the right person.

Hermione. He didn't know what it was about her that drove him crazy. She wasn't a Veela or anything, and no one else really seemed to like her as much as he did, if he didn't count Krum (and Ron did not, he thought bitterly.) It wasn't just her looks, even though, of course, she was beautiful. He'd first started to like her in second year, he thought. Except then it had been sort of subconscious, like he found himself staring at her for no apparent reason, and when she smiled, it made him forget whatever he had been saying or doing. And seeing her in the hospital wing, Petrified. That had been it. He had wanted to protect her, he didn't ever want to see her like that again.

They'd still argued of course. That was just how they were. And yes, sometimes Ron started the rows on purpose… He didn't know what it was about it, but whenever she yelled at him her eyes would sparkle and she'd look more amazing than ever. It was like that old Muggle cliché phrase – "You're beautiful when you're angry…" Unfortunately, Ron had never really been able to say that to Hermione, as he'd always bottled it at the last second. Mainly because in those old Muggle films where they said it, the hero always kissed the woman after, and that was the bit Ron had trouble with.

Kissing Hermione. He couldn't think of anything that would be more pleasurable, or more terrifying. He'd wanted to for so long, but there was just so much to lose. So that was why, during the battle, he had responded so fiercely when she'd kissed him. It couldn't have been a dream, surely. He'd had dreams about it before, and none had been so great…

Ron was interrupted from his daydream about Hermione's big brown eyes when the door opened. He straightened up, his ears tinged red. It was Hermione. Would she be able to know he'd been thinking about her? Would she be able to tell from how he was stuttering over his words and how his entire head was a strange shade of scarlet?

"Umm, Ron? Can I talk to you a second?"

"S-s-sure, 'Mione. I'd be, urm, happy to, yeah?"

Oh excellent. He sounded like some kind of deranged snake who had never heard English before in its life.

"Ron, erm, I think I made a mistake."

"What?"

"Well, during the battle, I kissed you, and well, I'm sorry, and I apologise for that."

"What?!"

"I did it for all the wrong reasons, and it was stupid, and can we forget it never happened?"

Ron nodded blindly, as everything in the room seemed to blur before his eyes.

"Well, good. See you at dinner?" Hermione replied, a look of relief flushing across her face.

Ron nodded again, trying to seem unbothered. She smiled broadly, before turning and exiting the room.

Ron fell back on the bed, a strange feeling washing over him. It was as if someone had just emptied an entire bucket of cold water over his head. He couldn't have got things so wrong, surely. It didn't make any sense. But she'd said it. She'd said it all, and she showed no signs of lying or trying to deceive him. Maybe she'd been joking. Yeah, that was it.

The door creaked opened again. Ron looked up, hoping with all his heart (and pretty much every other part of his body) that it was Hermione, coming to tell him that she was joking of course, and she couldn't believe he would fall for that, and then she'd kiss him again, only it would be so much better, and he'd kiss her back and he could hold her and make her smile. It was her! Ron grinned, but her face was deadly serious.

"Ron, can you not call me Mione please. That's not my name."

Oh well, Ron thought. He had been imagining things again.


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing, et cetera.

A/N – Woo, I did a quick update for once! Go me! And thanks for the reviews everyone!

_Two._

Hermione leaned against Ron's bedroom door, trying everything in her power to stop her going back into the room and kissing Ron like she'd done before. No, she scolded herself. Hermione, you can't.

Even so, she could feel herself about to sob. She crossed the landing and went into the room she was sharing with Ginny, ready to fall onto the bed and have a good cry.

She didn't know why she'd told Ron such a huge lie. Of course she didn't regret kissing him, it had been the most amazing thing that she had ever done. She knew she had been more courageous in that one moment than she'd been throughout the entire battle. She'd poured all the love she had been feeling for Ron ever since she first realised how she felt into that kiss, and she'd thought he felt the same way. When she'd felt him kiss her back… she had never felt really truly happy in all her life (being such a terrible pessimist as she was) but for those few seconds, it had felt as if her life truly had some kind of meaning, and for that, she loved Ron more than ever.

Her reverie was interrupted by the emergence of a giggling Ginny and Harry. They burst into the room, half-kissing, half-laughing, before they saw Hermione.

Ginny straightened her clothes, and smoothed down her hair, her face blushing deep red. Hermione noticed how incredibly alike she and Ron were. It was easy to forget they were brother and sister sometimes, but they both went bright red when they were embarrassed revealing that they were in fact, siblings.

"Umm, Hermione? What are you doing here?" Harry said, in a clearly falsely happy voice. He was gesturing wildly, trying to get her to leave. Hermione pretended she didn't know what he meant, even though he couldn't have made it more obvious – he had been hoping he and Ginny could spend some time alone together in her empty room.

"I'm just thinking." Hermione replied. She had been, after all. She had nothing to hide.

Ginny frowned, as if something was missing from the scene.

"Why aren't you with Ron?" she asked. "He's in his room alone, you're in here alone. Why aren't you together?"

Hermione could feel herself blush. Dammit, why did just the mention of his name make her feel so nervous yet excited inside.

"Why the hell would I be with _him_?" she spat, suppressing the tears that threatened to spill. She would not cry. She had to convince herself she didn't care about him. Maybe then it would be true.

It was now Harry's turn to look confused.

"Because you two are in love with each other?"

Ginny nodded, bewildered.

"Did you think we hadn't realised?"

"Look." Hermione replied, trying to keep herself looking calm, and rational, and methodical, as if they had just asked her about an Arithmancy problem. "I do not love Ron. He does not love me."

"What were you snogging his face off the other day for then?"

"I-I didn't 'snog his face off'… I just kissed him, and it was just a good-luck thing, and I shouldn't have done it anyway."

Ginny and Harry exchanged a look, disbelieving what they were hearing. They both knew that Hermione and Ron had had feelings for each other for years. What had changed Hermione's mind?

"'Mione? You okay?" Harry asked, his voice full of concern.

"Harry, can you please not call me that."

"You let Ron."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, Hermione, I don't know what's happened here, but I swear that Ron is madly in love with everything to do with you, and I always thought you felt the same…"

"You thought wrong then."

Harry felt more frustrated than ever. What was the point in even trying? The pair of them were so damn stubborn that the only thing that would get them together would be something drastic. But he wasn't going to be the ones to make them realise that. He'd tried, god, he'd tried. Why couldn't they see that they were perfect for each other? It wasn't that difficult, surely. He was with Ginny, and happier than ever. He wanted that for his best friends.

"Whatever Hermione." He sighed, exasperated. He took Ginny's hand, and led her from the room.

Hermione feel back on the bed. What was it with her? What was so fundamentally wrong with her that she couldn't even admit to loving someone after bloody kissing them in front if everyone?

She was scared. That was it. With Ron, she hadn't always felt like this. Before that, they'd been friends. Best friends. Being his girlfriend would be like uncharted territory. It would be new, and alien.

Plus Hermione couldn't think of any reasons why Ron would ever want to be with someone like her.


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N – I'm aiming to update every day for this story by the way. And as I have nothing to do, I'm pretty sure I'll keep to this. So enjoy, and please review! Also, thanks to those who have reviewed so far. It really does mean a lot. I get so excited when I check my email and find out I have new reviews. I actually do a small dance…. Anyway, chapter three…

_Three. _

All that falling in love crap was overrated, Ron thought, as he punched the wall. People just make it up to have stuff to write songs about. They just make it up to get people to sleep with them. They make it up so they have a reason to carry on living. So they might find love. But really, who needed it? People could be happy without it. He knew plenty of people who'd never fallen in love… well, maybe that wasn't entirely true, but there had to be someone who didn't think it was real.

He looked down at his knuckles. They were bleeding. He watched the red liquid seep. He needed to learn how to control his frustration. Something that didn't involve pain for one thing.

I don't think I'm going to leave this room, Ron said out loud, to no-one in particular. He felt so embarrassed. How could he have even thought that Hermione had liked him? How could he have been so stupid? He never thought he was that thick, he got okay marks in his OWLs and he could play chess okay. But the thought of how he'd kissed her back, not even considering that she hadn't meant it like that made him feel as if he'd got Ts in all of his subjects.

But then again, how was he supposed to know? It wasn't as if he'd initiated the kiss, it had been her. Her. Hermione. Even the thought of her name made him smile inside. Stop it Ron, he scolded himself. That's finished. It hadn't even begun, but it's finished. Gone. Over.

He'd actually thought he had a chance this time. He'd thought he'd made it. He'd come so close, so many times. He could see them together co clearly in his mind. And the fact that he'd been so very nearly there made it hurt even more now he knew it would never happen. It was as if something had offered him the chance to be happy, and he could feel it, smell it, taste it – and then it had been cruelly snatched away.

"R-ron?"

Ron recognised the tearful, wavering voice as that of his mother. He immediately opened the door to find her sobbing. She'd taken Fred's death very hard, second only to George, who hadn't spoken to anyone since it had happened.

"Mum, its okay. I-I'm here."

He put his arm around his mother, feeling more gangly and awkward than ever. He had never been good at the emotional side of things. Especially now, when he had problems of his own. But there was no way he'd be so selfish as to dump them all over his mother. She had just lost her son. And she could have lost a whole lot more. He shivered at the thought.

"Mum?"

"Yes Ron?"

"It was ace the way you got Bellatrix."

Mrs Weasley gave a watery smile, but then broke down again.

"It doesn't even matter Ron. Anyone would have done the same… But it doesn't matter. Nothing even matters. He's – he's gone…"

Now Ron really was at a loss for words. He'd tried using the only weapon at his disposal – humour – and it had failed. There really wasn't anything he could say to cheer her up. He carried on holding her, as if he were the parent, as she wept on his shoulder.

"Mrs Weasley?"

Hermione had emerged from the bedroom next door. Ron felt something happen inside his chest, as if his heart had just trembled with excitement, at the mere sight of her. He could feel his face get hotter. He caught her gaze, just for a second, before she looked away. Her eyes were tinged with red, and her face was shiny as if it had been wet moments before but then hurriedly wiped dry.

"Mrs Weasley? Why don't you come with me. You can show me where the photo albums are, and then we can look at pictures of him. Come on. It helps to focus on the good times, trust me."

Mrs Weasley nodded, forcing herself to smile.

"That would be lovely dear. Ron, will you join us?"

Ron, who had been busy gazing at Hermione's lips for the duration of the conversation, looked round, suddenly guilty.

"Umm, yeah, I, um, might, I don't really know, um, I might have stuff to do, in my room, umm, on my own, yeah, that's what I'm doing, um, doing some reading, got to prepare for, um, exams and tests and, um, just learning really. Yeah, I'll be, just learning. In my room."

The two women watched as Ron fled back to the sanctuary of his room, his hands covering his ears. Dammit, why did they have to get so red when she was around…


	4. Four

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

A/N – I am actually on fire with updates here. I'm doing myself proud! Enjoy!

_Four._

Just because things with Ron weren't as they usually were, that was no reason to behave any differently towards his mother, Hermione thought, as she led the crying woman downstairs. After all, she had lost a son, and even though Hermione was not a parent (and hoped she wouldn't become one for a long time yet) she could guess at what that must feel like.

Plus she knew Ron was terrible at anything serious. So when she'd heard Mrs Weasley crying, she knew she had to intervene before something Ron did or said made the situation any worse. She could just see him accidentally saying something like "At least you have lots of other sons" or "George looks the same as Fred except for the ear, maybe you could pretend he's Fred" or something equally tactless.

Maybe that was why their relationship had never really progressed, she thought. Every time they'd got close to anything like it, his inability to voice his feelings and her fear of doing anything that could wreck what they already had got in the way and they were back to being friends.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, she thought, as she settled Mrs Weasley on the battered yet comfy settee and went to fix her a cup of tea. She added a shot of brandy (which she was surprised to find in a wizarding house) and stirred, trying not to think about anything that could cause her to burst into tears again.

Hermione hated feeling out of control. Everyone knew her as the clever one, and that was because she disciplined herself, she planned things months before they happened, she was always prepared. So when things happened that she couldn't prevent or be ready for, she tended to lose it a bit.

And right now, there were so many issues that were completely out of her control, and she could hardly bear it. For one thing, there were so many deaths… The memorial service for those who had died fighting at Hogwarts would take place tomorrow, she realised sadly. No-one really felt in the mood for it, but as Mr Weasley had said to everyone when it was officially confirmed, it would maybe help people to celebrate their lives instead of mourn too heavily.

She took the tea into Mrs Weasley, who had retrieved a huge leather-bound photograph album and was gazing at the first picture, fresh tears sparkling deceptively like diamonds in her blue eyes.

"That was our first proper family photograph we had taken." she sniffed.

Hermione looked at the picture. She couldn't help smiling. The figures in the photograph were all talking at once. She could see a young Ron and Ginny teasing each other, while Percy posed formally behind them. Bill stood out among them, taller than Charlie by a head, his Prefects badge shining on his chest. Mrs and Mrs Weasley were stood holding hands in the centre, each with an arm around a twin. Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes as she looked upon the happiest family she'd ever encountered in her life. It wasn't fair that they'd had one of them so cruelly taken away.

"That was the year before the twins went to Hogwarts. They were right little… they were always so naughty."

She pointed at Ron, who began waving to no-one in particular.

"See that black eye there? They said they didn't do it, but I never believed them. I knew one or both of them were responsible, but they kept saying it couldn't have been them, and didn't I trust my own sons?"

Hermione giggled, for once feeling it was okay to laugh.

"That sounds like them all right."

Mrs Weasley clutched her chest.

"What if Fr- he never knew I loved him? What if he died without knowing that even though he was so naughty, and even though he didn't finish Hogwarts, I was so proud of him?"

Hermione looked away. That had been her exact motivation for kissing Ron. She didn't want him to die without knowing that she really did love him. She didn't want to die without finally doing the thing she had been wanting to do for years.

"I'm sure he knew. He was fighting to make you proud, I'm sure."

Mrs Weasley smiled.

"What would I do without you Hermione? This whole family would be lost without you!"

"The whole family?"

"Of course! You must know by now how must you mean to us all! Ron in particular…"

She didn't want to, and every part of her tried to stop it happening, but she couldn't help it. Hermione blushed, and promptly tried to hide her face.

"See love, your eyes even sparkle when someone mentions his name."

"They do?"

"They do, and you look prettier than ever."

"Really?"

Mrs Weasley patted Hermione affectionately on the shoulder.

"I think you should be asking Ron that."

"Do you really think so?"

"Hermione dear, there's a reason why he looks at you as if he thinks you're an angel when he thinks people aren't looking."

"I should really go talk to him?"

"Yes."

At this, Hermione stood up, and then sat down again.

"I can't…"

"I know you can."

And that was how Hermione Granger found herself knocking on the door of Ron Weasley's room, her palms sweating and her heart beating more wildly than she'd ever felt it before.


	5. Five

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N – It's getting interesting now… hehehehe. By the way, the title of this fic is from the song of the same name by Razorlight. I don't think I've mentioned that before. Also, the chapter after this one is quite long, well, longer than the others at least, so it may take me longer to upload but I'm a good half-way through writing it now, so yeah. It will also probably be a bit more serious and less fluffy as well – a LOT more angsty. I thought I had to deal with the people who died, Fred in particular. And as always, thanks for the reviews, and people who have added this story to their favourites and alerts – I love you! Ahem.

_Five._

Ron wasn't in his room "learning" as he'd said. He was actually lying on his bed, trying to recite the names of every Quidditch team he knew in an effort to get his mind of Hermione. It hadn't really been working. After Chudley Cannons, Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies, his mind went blank, and the image of her floated to the forefront of his mind.

"'Mione…" he whispered to himself, hating himself for loving how it sounded.

"Ron?" came the reply, as if on cue.

"Ron sat up abruptly.

"C-come in…" he said, daring to hope it would be her, come to tell him she had been joking, hoping she had come to tell him she loved him, hoping she had come to kiss him…

It was. It was her. Ron could feel his face cracking into a wide grin at the mere sight of her. The last time he'd seen her, on the landing, she'd looked almost distraught, but now she seemed more relaxed and calm. She really was beautiful, he thought.

"Um, Ron, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, 'course."

It had taken a supreme amount of effort not to say 'Mione but he had succeeded. The only thing was, he was starting to feel a sinking sense of déjà vu – surely, she couldn't be here to shoot him down again…. Why was his life always so crap…?

"Ron, can I just say, I'm sorry."

Dammit. It was like the same conversation. Why did she delight so much in tormenting him? He tried to avoid looking at her, so she wouldn't be able to see his face when she told him she was going off with Krum or someone.

"I shouldn't keep messing you about. And as you probably know, it's really hard for me to say this, so can you bloody listen instead of staring out the window!?"

"Sorry…"

"Well, erm, Ron? I didn't mean what I said before, and you probably think I'm crazy because I can't make up my mind, but the truth is, my mind's been, um, made up for years."

Okay, Ron thought. I'm confused. What did she mean? Crazy? Of course he didn't think she was crazy. She was about the sanest witch he knew. Her mind had been made up? About what? Did it even matter?

"About what?"

Hermione shook her head slowly, as if she was trying not to burst out laughing.

"Honestly Ron, do you really have no idea what I'm on about?"

"No."

"Okay then. I'm just going to say it – "

"Say what?"

"Ron please, can you not interrupt, I'm just really nervous…"

She looked nervous, Ron thought. She was biting her bottom lip and fiddling with a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. She reminded him of some sort of rodent, like a mouse or a squirrel, in a good sense of course, but he thought it would be wise to keep his mouth shut in case she took it the wrong way. And if she took it the wrong way, she might leave, and he would have done anything to avoid that. He decided to keep quiet so she could speak.

"Okay, right. Erm, yeah. I lied before. And I'm sorry, I don't really know why I did it."

Ron felt his eyes widen and his jaw go slack. But then he realised that he was probably not presenting a good image towards her like that, and tried to remain calm and collected, even though his heartbeat had quickened.

"It's just, I don't know. I guess I was just scared. I've never gone up to anyone and just kissed them like that, that's not really very me, and I haven't even really been out with anyone, well, not anyone I really liked, and I thought I'd mess it up, and that's the last thing I wanted to do with you."

She looked at Ron, who was deliberately avoiding her gaze.

"You can speak now Ron."

"Oh, um, right."

"So?"

"So what?"

He had no idea of what to say. What did she want him to do? He patted the space next to him on the bed, beckoning her to sit by him.

"Sit."

Dammit. He sounded like a dog trainer. Nice one, Ronald, he congratulated himself.

Hermione looked confused, but joined him. He knew he was supposed to say something now, but nothing he though of felt right. He couldn't tell her he loved her, even though it was true, because then she'd get scared, and it had said in that book he'd got Harry never to look too keen; but then again, this was different. He didn't want to just get off with Hermione and then never see her again. He wanted to be with her forever. And anyway, she wasn't like the witches the book talked about. She would see through any lame line he tried to charm her with, she'd laugh at him, and even though he loved it when he made her laugh, it wasn't the same when she was laughing at him rather than with him. There was only one thing he could really do, but that one thing scared him so much he knew he'd probably do it wrong.

Neither of them had spoken for several minutes, preferring to examine the carpet.

"Awkward…" muttered Ron.

"What?"

"D'you want me to kiss you?"

Now that took Ron by surprise. He hadn't meant to say that, it had just sort of slipped out. It sounded weird as well, like he didn't really want to, but he would if she did.

"Alright then."

She wanted him to kiss her! He could already feel himself flushing pink, and his palms were sweating. How should he do it? Should he like, hold her head? But then it might look like he was trying to own her and it would be weird. But if he left his hands where they were, it would look like she was doing all the work and he was just sitting back not bothered. So he couldn't leave his hands where they were. But if he put them on her waist or anywhere else for that matter it would be kind of rude, like he wanted to go further. Why had the bloody book never mentioned where to put your bloody hands?

She was waiting. Okay, he had to do something, before she thought he wasn't interested. He inched closer to her, trying to put it off for as long as possible. During the battle it had just happened, he hadn't expected it at all, one second he'd been talking about house-elves and the next she had just been there, not that he was complaining, but he hadn't had to think.

His face was so close to hers, he could see every one of her eyelashes and the faint freckles on her nose. He had to do it. He leaned in, closed his eyes –

"Ron, Mum says dinner's ready."

It was Ginny. Didn't the girl know how to knock?

"Okay Ginny, we'll come in a minute."

"Mum says come now. She needs help setting the table."

Looks like all that worrying about how to kiss Hermione had been completely pointless, thought Ron, as he followed the two girls downstairs, feeling more exasperated with himself than ever.


	6. Six

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JKR does.

A/N – This is probably the longest chapter I will write for this. I thought I should really deal with the issues of who died and the whole aftermath of the battle, and how that affects their relationship as well as all the fluff. I might extend this when this story is done to act as kind of a tribute to those who died. This chapter is more sad and angsty than the others as well. I felt I needed to deal with the issue of grief. Overall, I don't think I like this chapter as much, but whatever.

And thanks to everyone who reviewed, I honestly think I have more reviews for this story than all 6 of my others put together, so that makes me happy. And I'm sorry for all the cliffies… lol.

And also, does anyone know anything about what Lavender Brown actually looks like? She may come in in a later chapter, so I really need to know. Thank you!

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_Six._

For once in her life, Hermione did not want to return to Hogwarts. That was where the Memorial Service for the many who died in battle was to be held, in the Great Hall. It was rumoured that the house elves of Hogwarts had been working night and day to make it look presentable. As much as Hermione disagreed with this blatant mistreatment of elves (she really needed to start S.P.E.W up again now Voldemort was gone) she knew she had to go.

At least she'd have Ron to help her through it, she thought as she got dressed the morning of the service. He would be there to hold her when she cried, and she'd be there for him as well. She had to keep reminding herself that he'd lost a brother, but he seemed to be dealing with it so well it was easy to forget. It would be nice for him to hold her, she thought. Mainly because she adored how he smelled in the morning, after his shower. She didn't know whether it was just the soap he used, or just his natural scent, but whatever it was, it always made her want to jump on him and kiss him to within an inch of his life.

But today at the Burrow, Fred, and not kissing, was on everyone's minds. As were Lupin, and Tonks, Colin Creevey, and the many more who had perished in the long fight against Voldemort, including Dobby the house-elf, Sirius and Mad-Eye Moody.

At the breakfast table, all was silent, save for Harry, who was trying to memorise his speech. He had volunteered to make a speech for Dobby, Sirius and Lupin – he had wanted to do more, but Mrs Weasley had refused to let him, as she didn't want him to get too wrapped up in it all.

As Hermione buttered her toast, she watched Ron, who was sat across from her at the table. It amazed her how he could still make her smile in such a sombre mood. His hair was tousled and all over his face, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He had constructed some sort of bacon and egg mountain, and was proceeding to eat his way through it. How could he not feel sick, Hermione wondered, as she pushed her own plate away from her. Everyone else seemed to be feeling the same. Mrs Weasley even appeared to have lost some weight since Fred's death, and her face had a certain gaunt appearance to it.

It was decided that those attending the service would apparate to Hogsmeade, and then take Thestral-drawn carriages up to the castle. Hermione could tell that Ron was still nervous about apparating after his unfortunate splinching incident before. She decided that he would maybe benefit from her by his side. Purely for his benefit of course. Nothing to do with how she liked the way he smelt when he'd just had a shower in the morning.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, 'Mione?"

"Okay, can you please not call me that? I don't even know where that came from!"

"Sorry…"

"No, it's okay. Take my arm, we'll apparate together."

"I don't need you here; I can do it myself…"

However, the way that Ron told his shoes about this instead of her made her think otherwise.

"No, it's nothing to do with you, I just, I feel really nervous, I didn't eat much breakfast and..." she stuttered, wondering if he'd take the bait.

"Oh okay. Hold my arm. I'll help you."

Hermione suppressed a giggle at how Ron had managed to turn the situation so it was him assisting her, but in a second they were there. It suddenly felt a lot colder. And even though the streets of Hogsmeade showed signs of previous parties and celebrations, an eerie sense of terrible loss hung in the air. Dark grey clouds cast ominous shadows, almost as if the weather had known what would be happening today and had decided to pay its respects too.

They trooped sombrely towards the carriages, where Hagrid was waiting. Hermione realised with horror that she could now see the Thestrals. She could already feel herself about to start weeping, and they weren't even at the castle yet.

"It's okay 'Mione. I'm here."

"Don't call me… thanks Ron."

Who was she to be worrying about trivialities at a time like this, she wondered sadly.

------------

The trip up to Hogwarts castle was the longest of her life. No-one seemed to know what to say. When anyone broke the silence to cough, or refasten their cloak, they did so hurriedly, and as quietly as possible, as if trying not to ruin everything for everyone. Hermione was thankful for Ron. She was resting her head on his shoulder, and he was holding her hand in his. She liked the way his skin felt on hers; his rough, callused, Quidditch-playing hands felt strangely comforting against her own soft skin. And even though it was the middle of June, she felt as if he was almost keeping her warm, keeping her safe. If only she'd got to kiss him last night… she thought. Then she wouldn't have to feel so wretched now, as she wanted his lips on hers so badly, but knew it would be terribly inappropriate. Even so, maybe if they did it while no-one was watching…

Too late, they had arrived now, Hermione realised sadly. The castle had always looked so welcoming to her, she had always regarded it as home; but now its outline stood against the sky in a forbidding silhouette. Everyone around seemed to be trying to avoid looking at it, instead busying themselves with patting the Thestrals or refastening their cloaks for the umpteenth time. But Hermione couldn't draw her eyes away.

The house-elves had done an amazing job at fixing up the Great Hall; there were no signs that a Battle had even taken place, and colourful banners were strewn across the walls. A reminder that it wasn't supposed to be a sad occasion. There was a huge hanging at the front, behind an ancient looking wooden lectern. The house tables were arranged as normal, with chairs for people to sit at, but to Hermione it looked as if some people were going to have to stand. The hall was full. She recognised many of the guests; the majority had attended Dumbledore's funeral; but the others she had seen around in Diagon Alley and in Hogsmeade. She could see the surviving members of the Order, seated at the front of the Hall. There seemed to be so few of them…

The Weasley's, Hermione and Harry took their seats. Hermione sat next to Harry at the former-Gryffindor table. He was staring blankly at a crumpled piece of paper. At a glance, she could see the words "brave", "perseverance", "courage" and "love". She felt such a warm rush of love towards him. He'd worked so hard for this; the death of Voldemort; but now it was here, no-one could really celebrate with so many dead.

"Good morning." Professor McGonagall's crisp voice projected across the hall.

"As acting headmistress of Hogwarts School, I would like to welcome you to the memorial service for those brave warriors who all helped, in their own individual way, defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I am sure many of you here will like to say a few words, so this is your opportunity."

At this, Harry rose, and strode up towards the lectern. McGonagall patted him gently on the shoulder, and whispered something that Hermione could not hear.

"Umm, hello, everyone. Thanks a lot for coming, it means a lot to me, and those who lost relatives and friends – "

Hermione glanced at Ron, who was cradling his head in his hands as if it had suddenly become too heavy for him to hold up.

"- and the people who can't be with us right now, even though we'd give a lot for them to be.

I have nothing but gratitude for everyone who fought. They bought me time, time I desperately needed to help destroy Voldemort –"

Everyone in the hall seemed to wince at the mention of the name, but Harry continued.

"And I feel so proud to have even known people like them, people so brave that they would lay their lives down for me.

Now, anyone who feels they have a tribute, for, um, anyone, anyone at all, this, um, lectern is now open for you to pay your respects."

Harry stepped down, his face tinged with green. Hermione found it rather ironic that he could be so nervous when making a speech, but perfectly calm when facing evil wizards or even his own death.

Various people began to get up, each forming a line to make their own speeches about those they had lost. The first speaker was George Weasley. He looked so…alone, Hermione thought. And there was something different about his appearance. His face was an eerie reminder of Fred, but he looked as if something should be missing – almost as if the artist who painted him had forgotten something. Hermione noticed, mouth open, that the hanging behind him had almost dissolved, to form a portrait of Fred, the almost exact double of his brother.

"Erm, hiya everyone. I'm George, and as you probably know, I'm here to talk about my twin, Fred."

All the Weasley's were watching George, their faces pale but wearing smiles. Whether it was the memory of Fred helping them through or the fact that they were trying to be strong, Hermione didn't know.

"Well, my brother, he was ace. Him and me, we were such a great team. Many of you will remember what we often used to refer to as our finest hour, when we departed from Hogwarts in our final year, let's say, a little earlier than what's conventional. And many more of you will recall that we have a shop, Weasleys' wizarding Wheezes, which in September will begin trading again as normal. I think it's what he would've wanted. So make sure you come buy stuff, y'hear?"

There was a murmur of agreement across the hall, and some laughter, although it stopped abruptly after a few seconds.

"But business aside, I'm, we're, really going to miss Fred, I think you'll agree. Especially us Weasley's. That's the thing about my family – we go through the good times together, and the bad times together. And we support each other. It's been like that as long as I remember, and I know it will be like that forever, if you'll excuse the cheesiness – "

All of a sudden, there was a loud scraping noise. Hermione looked up from studying the grain on the wooden table to see Ron, head still in hands, fleeing from the room as if he'd been bitten by something. She blinked. It couldn't be real. She never would have even considered Ron as someone who would do that. She thought he'd been handling Fred's death pretty well – obviously not.

All of the Weasley's were looking at each other, as if they were having some sort of family meeting that didn't even require words. She couldn't help but envy them, even at a time like this, for their incredible closeness. They all seemed to be looking at her, but by then she knew what she had to do anyway.

Hermione followed Ron out of the Great Hall, her heart thumping. She had no idea of what she was supposed to do. What could she say to make him feel better? She'd never lost anyone close. The only relatives who'd ever died in her lifetime were aged great-uncles and great-grandmothers she'd never even met.

She found Ron leaning against a stone wall, just outside the entrance to Hogwarts. He didn't look like Ron at all to her. She'd never really seen him cry, not really. He'd cried immediately after Fred had died, but everyone had been so shocked then, everyone had been devastated. It had almost been as if he had dissolved into the background. But now, he was here, he was crouched on the ground, hugging his knees close to him, his face streaked with tears.

"Why'd he even have to die…" she could hear him muttering.

Hermione was clever. She prided herself on studying her set books weeks before she needed to, and her hand was always the first one in the air. But for once in her life, she was unable to give an answer.

"I-I don't know…" she whispered in reply, before sitting next to Ron on the floor and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"It's just, I can't even believe it. He was just Fred, he's always been there, y'know? I keep expecting him to come round the corner to take the piss out of me, especially yesterday, when Ginny came in when we were, um, yeah, and I really thought it was him, just for a second, and it can't have happened, and I can't even think about it, and…"

Hermione took hold of Ron's hand, and began stroking his palm with her thumb, trying to calm him down.

"Ron, listen to me. It's okay to feel like this. Just tell me about it."

"You don't want to hear me go on about it…"

"I do."

Ron looked at her, his blue eyes watery and sadder than she'd ever seen them before.

"I was trying not to even think about him, 'cos Mum's upset enough as it is, and so's everyone else, plus there's other stuff I've got to worry about, like going back to Hogwarts next year for NEWTs, and you, and I'll end up ruining everything if I get angry, which I know I will, and… then I'll start missing him, so I was trying to pretend he's still here, but I just saw George up there, on his own, and it just looked so weird that I had to get out, and now I'm just sat here looking like a complete twat and…."

"No you're not. And Ron, you don't have to worry about me, trust me."

She stood up.

"Come on, let's go for a walk. This stone floor's killing me."

Hermione reached for Ron's hand, pulling him up to her level.

"It's okay to talk to me."

Ron grunted, embarrassed.

"I feel like such an idiot though. You probably think I'm a right loser…"

"Yeah. You are. Now come on."

She'd made him smile, Hermione thought. Maybe she wasn't so bad at this stuff after all.

---------------------

They sat, overlooking the lake, closer than they'd ever sat before. Why was it always the bad things that brought them together, Hermione contemplated sadly. Ron was looking over the lake, his eyes seeming to focus on something faraway that she couldn't see. She could however see that his eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

"I'm here." She said, for no apparent reason. Maybe her heart felt it needed to be said, because it certainly wasn't her brain. It made no sense at all, why did she always end up failing at the things that really mattered? So what if she once got 320 in a Muggle Studies exam?

But it was all okay. Ron turned to look at her. He nodded. She knew he was trying to be strong, she could tell by the fake defiance in his eyes, but she still pulled him closer to her, so that his head rested on her shoulder. She had to be the tough one, and she didn't mind. It wasn't about her, she reminded herself. He's had so much to cope with, and…

The next thing she knew, they had both fallen asleep, basking in the warm glow of the sun that had recently emerged from behind the dull, depressing clouds.


	7. Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N – Wow, I'm so proud of myself. Chapter 7! The furthest I've got in a story before is chapter 3, and that story is still unfinished… oh dear. But anyway, thanks for the reviews, it honestly makes me so happy. Now after the sadness that was chapter 6, hopefully this one will be a bit happier.

_Seven._

It hadn't been so terrible crying on Hermione's shoulder, Ron thought, as he struggled to fall asleep that night. It had been, well, sort of nice. He liked the way she smelt; it wasn't perfume, it was just Hermione.

He turned over, and tried to fluff up his pillow. He wondered if she'd minded that he'd been so pathetic earlier. He hadn't meant to, but it had all just come pouring out of him when he'd seen George, looking so incomplete. He'd been trying so hard to keep all the grief inside him, so he wouldn't end up provoking his mother into crying even more, or pushing Hermione away from him.

And that was the last thing he wanted to do, he mused, as he watched the shadows that were cast on the ceiling. He wanted her close to him. Through the past year he'd been so scared of losing her, that it was hard to believe that that fear didn't need to be there anymore.

Was she officially his girlfriend now then? Because neither of them had said anything like that. She'd just said that she liked him and that was about it. Did he have to ask her? How was he supposed to do that? He hadn't asked anyone out before. It had been Lavender who'd asked him, and he'd just had to say yes then.

He had never realised there were so many unwritten rules about stuff like this. Love. He'd always assumed that when it came to it, he'd be so overcome with love for whoever it was that it wouldn't matter what he said. And it was half true. He was crazy about her. How the hell could he not be? She was the most amazing girl he'd ever met. And she was so different to every other girl he'd met. She wasn't pretty in an obvious way, like Fleur Delacour, but somehow that made her a million times more beautiful. And maybe she didn't let him do whatever, and laugh at all his stupid jokes, and do what he always thought a girlfriend should, like Lavender. He had come to realise that wasn't what he wanted anyway. He wanted someone who'd be there for him, and who trusted him, and who he could trust back. He wanted a girl who'd drive him crazy just by looking at him, who'd make him shiver just by brushing past him.

And it certainly looked like he'd found her, he smiled to himself.

--------------------

The next morning, Ron felt more refreshed than he'd felt in weeks, even though he'd had barely any sleep. And he'd got up earlier than he could remember ever doing. He didn't quite know why, but he felt like today would be special. Well, any day would be if she were in it, he thought, as he took his morning shower.

He saw her when he'd finished in the bathroom. She was waiting outside, her eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep, and still wearing her dressing gown. Ron could feel himself blushing. It seemed so personal, to see someone when they had just woken up, just finished dreaming – but that made her all the more beautiful.

"Alright 'Mione?"

"For goodness sake Ron, you know that's not my name." she replied sleepily, but with a smile dancing about her lips.

"You know you love it really."

"Oh I do, do I?"

This must be some kind of a record, Ron thought. Already flirting at what? 8 in the morning? Nice one Ronald, he congratulated himself, already planning to brag to Harry about it when he saw him.

He noticed that Hermione's face had sort of melted. She was still smiling, but her whole face looked softer.

"Have you just had a shower?" she asked, a strange look in her eyes.

"Yeah."

Her grin grew even wider, and she almost threw herself at Ron, her arms around his neck, hugging him harder than anyone had done before.

"What the bloody hell was that for?"

"No reason."

She let go, still smiling, before heading into the bathroom. Ron watched her go. He liked how she looked in the morning, he decided. He watched until she shut the door, for some odd reason sniffing the air beforehand. Strange, thought Ron. I'll never understand her.

-------------------------

After breakfast, Ron decided to talk to Harry. He had concluded that he needed to get some advice about, well, everything. Okay, that was a lie. It was mainly the whole kissing thing. And he knew Harry had done a lot of that. He didn't particularly like that it had been with his younger sister, but he was willing to let that slide for now, as long as Harry could help him out.

Harry was in the garden, in the quiet spot in the corner. It was where everyone who stayed at the Burrow went when they needed to think, as it was secluded and hidden from view.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you?"

Harry sighed. "Sure, whatever."

Okay, thought Ron. Harry's pissed off. Must tread carefully.

"Well, I want to ask you, about, um, well, you know with girls, um, what do you do, when, you know, you like them, but you, erm, don't know what's going on, and you're really confused, and you can't like, ah, ask them, because it would be, erm, weird, well, like then, what would you do?"

Harry frowned for a second.

"What are you on about Ron?"

"I don't know what's going on with 'Mione."

"She hates you calling her that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, what's up?"

"That's it Harry! _I don't know!"_

"For god's sake Ron, just ask her!"

"Ask her what?"

"You know, you can be remarkably stupid sometimes."

Yep, Harry certainly seemed annoyed with something, Ron thought. Well, he sort of had a right to be… what with everything that was probably going on in his mind, but still. Was it too much to ask for a bit of advice?

"Harry, please, can you tell me something to do so I don't completely mess this up!"

"Okay, okay, calm down."

If there was one thing that annoyed Ron more than anything (other than Divination) it was someone telling him to calm down when he was incapable of doing so. If anything, it just made him more hysterical.

"HARRY!! I NEED HELP HERE! IF YOU DON'T HELP ME I'M GOING TO END UP LOSING HER AND I DON'T PARTICULARLY WANT THAT TO HAPPEN! IT'S NEVER HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE, BUT I'M GUESSING IT SUCKS TO LOSE SOMEONE YOU LOVE! OKAY?"

Harry looked shocked for a second, before chuckling to himself.

"Don't worry Ron, I'm guessing you won't lose her too easily. She won't let that happen, trust me. And neither will you."

"But what the hell do I do?"

"Take her out somewhere. On a date. Remember those? Then she'll know you're going out. Simple. Now will you stop shouting directly in my ear?"

Ron wasn't listening. Of course! He should take Hermione out! There was a nice café in the village, she'd like that. It was magical too, run by an old French witch who made the best cakes he'd ever tasted (and he'd tasted a lot of cakes in his lifetime) and it was rumoured to be one of the most romantic places in the country. Why hadn't he thought of it before? His first date with Hermione. Perfect.

----------------------------------

He caught up with her later that day. She'd been out shopping with Ginny, buying their new Hogwarts things. Urgh, Ron thought. He was going to be in the same year as his little sister. He didn't particularly want to go back to Hogwarts, but he knew he needed to get his NEWTs if he wanted to be an Auror. He'd decided a while ago that that was what he wanted to be. Plus, there was a bonus to going back to Hogwarts. Hermione was going too. And there'd be loads of work to do too, so maybe they could go to the library together to do it. And if they were in the library, she'd relax, and then maybe…

And it was in the middle of Ron's library fantasy that Hermione bumped into him.

"Um, sorry, Ron, I didn't mean..."

"S'okay."

She'd had her hair done differently, Ron realised, as her watched her gather up her shopping bags from where they had fallen on the floor when they had collided. It looks really pretty… oh crap, I should really help her pick those up.

He bent down and helped, "accidentally" brushing her hand as much as possible.

"So, you had a nice time?" he asked, trying not to get distracted by anything whilst speaking to her, like the way her lips looked particularly soft, and how her hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders.

"Yeah, it was fun."

Right, this is it. He thought, as he mentally prepared himself. I am going to ask Hermione out. Deep breaths. Hope she doesn't say no, that would be… focus Ron, focus!

"Um, 'Mione?"

She was pretending not to hear, Ron noticed.

"Alright, HERmione, can I ask you something?"

"Yes you can Ron, what is it?"

"D'youwannagooutwithmetomorrow?"

"What?"

"Do you want to go out with me somewhere tomorrow?"

"Yeah, okay."

She flashed him another one of her amazing smiles, before going up to her and Ginny's room.

Ron stayed where he was, his face scarlet. She had said yes! She didn't think he was a complete loser after all. Maybe things were starting to look up…


	8. Eight

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Hmm. I don't like writing the Hermione chapters as much as the Ron ones, but whatever. Thankies for the reviews. I have made a special folder for the emails I get saying I have a review in my email inbox. Cos I'm cool like that.

And by the way, you may have to wait a bit longer for the happy ending… lol. I think I'm going to write maybe four more chapters for this, I don't know. So please keep reviewing and alerting and favouriting because it means so much to me. Thank you.

_Eight._

About time, Hermione thought, as he put away her new purchases. She'd been waiting what seemed like a lifetime for him to ask her out, and now he'd finally done it. And she couldn't believe how happy she felt. It really wasn't like her.

It was almost as if there was something buzzing inside her, she decided, that made her unable to contain her excitement, so that at the most inappropriate moments she would squeal to herself for what seemed like no apparent reason. Like at dinner yesterday, she had seemingly been very enthusiastic over Mrs Weasley's apple pie. It was something that made her feel as if she was about to explode, but in a good way.

It was a good job she'd bought a new outfit when she'd been out with Ginny. And she'd even had her hair cut and styled, but in the magical way – so her hair would stay like that until the spell wore off, in a few weeks time.

Things like this made Hermione appreciate magic more and more.

She sometimes wondered how different her life would be if she hadn't received her Hogwarts letter. To not know any magic – it didn't even bear thinking about.

Plus she wouldn't know Ron, and the thought of this made her chest tighten unpleasantly.

-------------------------

Walking through the village of Ottery St. Catchpole with Ron was a surreal experience, Hermione thought. His hand in hers had whole new meaning now they were officially going out. They'd held hands before; while they were dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding, when he'd helped her up when she'd fallen, when they had to escape from something. But now, it was so different. She felt so safe, just to have him near her, as if he were protecting her, even though she liked to think she'd be able to hold her own in a duel or fight.

Her first thought when they reached the café was not one of rapture though. It really wasn't her sort of place. For one thing, there was far too much pink. Pink, flowered wallpaper on the walls, pink carnations in rose-tinted glass vases on the pink tables. And, she realised, there would be far too much pressure if they went in there. There were couples everywhere, holding hands across the tables, feeding each other bites of their food, gazing into each other's eyes, blowing each other kisses. The thought of blowing a kiss to someone – it didn't strike Hermione as something any self-respecting girl would do. She looked up at Ron, who was also eyeing the café with a look of what could only be described as revulsion on his face. He saw her looking, and quickly forced a smile.

"Looks great. Erm, let's go in!" he said, his voice a little too high.

She followed, feeling all the people in the café turn to stare at them. She shook her head, so her hair fell in front of her face, simply wanting to disappear. A plump witch wearing a frilly apron greeted them, and led them to a table in the very centre of the room. The table was small, and Hermione didn't think there would be enough room for two, let alone the food they would order – but she realised that wasn't really the point of coming here as she noticed a couple, who looked to be about the same age as them, passionately kissing over a plate of cheesecake.

"May I take your order?" the waitress asked, a mysterious smirk on her face. Bet she's loving this, Hermione thought. The table was so tiny that her and Ron's legs were tangled together under the table in a very awkward way, that could have been quite pleasurable had they been somewhere else. They were also forced to sit very close, her face merely inches away from his. Normally she liked to observe Ron, especially the way that he smiled, and the way his blue eyes glittered whenever he talked about something that interested him, but now it was just far too uncomfortable.

"Um, yeah. We'll just have the special…" Ron mumbled, his eyes fixed firmly on the table. At least he's embarrassed too, Hermione thought. She doubted he even knew what the special was. She certainly didn't.

The witch smirked at them again, before hurrying off to the kitchen.

"So…" Hermione said.

"Yeah."

This couldn't be worse… Hermione contemplated, as she examined her fingernails. Normally she would have loved to spend any time with Ron at all, but this… this was just awful. Look on the bright side, Hermione, she thought. Soon this will be over, and then you can walk home with Ron, and maybe he'll kiss you…

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a sweep of long blonde hair. No, Hermione realised in horror. No, that's not fair.

"Hiya Ron! Hermione." Lavender Brown said. Ugh, Hermione said to herself. Why does she speak in such a simpering, annoying voice all the time? She knew it wasn't fair, that Lavender was a perfectly nice person (well, at least she was before she kissed Ron) and it wasn't her fault she was pretty, and popular, and funny, and better than Hermione in every single way.

"Hi Lavender…" Ron replied, his ears tinged red.

He's looking right down her top… Hermione thought, sadly. She looked down at her own, unimpressive, chest, and fingered her own frizzy hair, which was nothing compared to Lavender's long, shiny, smooth blonde locks. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. Why had she even let herself think that Ron would fancy her, when there were girls like Lavender around. She couldn't even think why he'd finished with her. Why was he on a date with her, Hermione? She wasn't anything special.

And of course, Hermione realised with a jolt, Ron had had his first kiss with Lavender. Surely he wouldn't have forgotten that. Surely it wasn't possible to just turn off a memory, to regard the person in question in the same way as everyone else. She knew she would always remember her first real kiss, with Viktor. Was Ron thinking about his? How could he not, with Lavender flaunting herself in front of him like that, Hermione realised. What was even the point? Why was she here?

Lavender was talking animatedly to Ron, gesturing wildly.

"Wow! It's so great to see you here! I've just got out of St Mungo's, they treated me after that awful werewolf bit me. You can hardly see the scars, the Healers there put something on them so you hardly know they're there, oh, and can I just say, well done for helping defeat You-Know-Who, I heard you helped, and anyway, this is such a great place, I love it here, don't you?"

She's everything I'm not, Hermione thought. I should have remembered – boys don't like girls 'cause they're clever. Boys like girls to be girls. They want them to laugh at all their stupid jokes, they want them to be strong, they want them to be pretty. And I'm none of those things. Seriously, why am I even here?

"Ron, I'm going." Hermione said, in flat, expressionless voice, getting up and pushing her chair back under the table forcefully, so that it collided with Ron's legs.

"Owww! 'Mione wait a minute!" Ron called after her, as he struggled to untangle the chair from his long legs.

But Hermione didn't look back. She just kept walking, out of the café, along the winding streets of the village, through crowds of people doing their shopping. But she didn't cry. She'd save that until she was alone she decided. She had been humiliated enough for the day.

She knew she shouldn't have let it bother her so much, that it was just her old insecurities clouding her judgement, that Ron hadn't been with Lavender in years and probably wouldn't be again, but all sense of logic seemed to have disappeared from her mind. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there. Who was she kidding? She didn't belong there. She wasn't one of those girls who went on dates. She wasn't one of those girls who needed to fall in love. She just wished she could believe it.

(A/N – If I got any details about Lavender wrong, then I'm sorry. I just assumed she survived the battle, and that she has blonde hair etc. And by the way, Hermione reacted like that because I feel she's quite an insecure person, which is why she tries to be the best in school all the time, plus there was the stress of feeling like everyone's looking at her and Ron, and from the battle etc.)


	9. Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

A/N – Okay, I redid part of this chapter because several people told me it was a bit OOC. For one thing, I do realise it's a bit strange of Ron to write a "love letter" as someone said (not that I'm being mean or resenting you having an opinion…) but I don't see this as a love letter as much. I decided to have Ron write one because I wanted to write something in first person and I also thought he wouldn't be able to say all that to Hermione in person. Anyway, yeah. Thanks for telling me where I was going wrong so I could change it. I really appreciate it.

_Nine._

Ron hadn't meant for it all to go wrong. He'd been expecting it of course, he'd learnt to expect the worst, but there had been a tiny part of him that thought it would turn out okay this time. There had been a tiny part of him that had seen that first date as the start of something amazing.

He didn't really know what he'd done wrong. Well, the café probably hadn't been the best choice, especially not for someone like Hermione, why hadn't he realised that? But it hadn't been his fault that Lavender had turned up. If that was what had made Hermione upset. He just didn't know…

She'd got back to the Burrow before him, and locked herself in her room. He hadn't been able to talk to her, ask her what was wrong. Anyway, he had a feeling that if he asked her she would think he was being stupid as usual and get even angrier with him.

Maybe he should have just left things with Hermione how they were. They had been happy when they were just friends, hadn't they? Maybe this was just a case of wanting what you can't have…

No, he thought. That wasn't the reason at all. He had fallen in love with Hermione because of who she was, not what she represented.

And those five years of loving her had cumulated in her running away whilst out with him.

He was at a complete loss as to what to do. Despite living in such a huge family, there wasn't really anyone he could talk to about love and girls. Especially now that Fred was gone, and no-one really felt like having any fun anymore. Sometimes he felt guilty; that he shouldn't be enjoying himself or finding ways to keep Fred out of his mind, but he knew that if he didn't, he would just end up crying uncontrollably and if he was to be honest, he wanted to preserve himself.

Maybe if I wrote her a letter… he mused, as he paced up and down his bedroom. He retrieved a spare scarp of parchment from under his bed, blew the cobwebs off it and began to write.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you are well…_

He couldn't send her that! It sounded so formal! He wasn't writing to one of his great-aunties, or someone he hadn't seen in years!

He Vanished the writing off the parchment, and began again.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I don't know what I did wrong. I don't even think I have done anything…_

Ron shook his head. If he valued his life, he could not let her see that! Anyway, he knew it was somehow his fault. He knew there was something he could have done.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm really really sorry. I know I messed up, I can't help it…_

But then that made it sound as if it was all his fault, and he wasn't sure it was.

Maybe if he just told her the truth. The truth about how he'd been feeling for years, how much he loved her, everything he'd been bottling up since he was thirteen…

_Dear Hermione,_

_Okay, I admit it. I'm not sure what I did wrong. But I know it was probably partly my fault. I should have picked a better place, I should have remembered you aren't like all the other girls that would kill to have someone take them there. Because of course, if you were one of those girls, I wouldn't want you anyway._

_Okay, that sounds a bit horrible. Bear with me for a few minutes while I explain. I fell in love with you when I was thirteen. I didn't realise it at the time. I just assumed I had a crush on you, and that it would go away, because, quite frankly, it scared the hell out of me. I would find myself, you know, looking at you, so differently, noticing new things about you, the way you walked, the way you smiled. But then, that's normal for a thirteen year old, isn't it? Plus, we were really close, so it just happened. I would have been surprised if it hadn't._

_But then everything started to get a little crazy. I could feel something happening to me, not like I was getting taller, not something like that, but I realised that when I looked at you, I didn't want to stop. And at the Yule Ball, well, you know what happened. Maybe not the whole story, but you know we argued. I needed some way to get out my frustration. Because seeing you looking so beautiful with bloody Krum, when you should have been with me, and you would have been with me if I hadn't been so scared to ask you, it just wasn't fair… I guess it was then I finally realised how deep my feelings for you had got. And I knew that there was no going back._

_If you're still reading this, and you haven't ripped it up, then good. Keep reading it please, its kind of embarrassing to have written everything down like this, so please keep reading._

_Anyway, we got older. I tried to pretend to myself and everyone else that I didn't like you, and that you were just my friend, but you have no idea how hard it was. __I sometimes think it would have been easier if we hadn't been friends first. Because then I could have just asked you out without worrying about ruining our friendship or making you think I was stupid or something. Like how it was with Lavender. And before I even say anything more, I think you need to know something. I never liked Lavender. She was just there. And everything was getting to me, and… I don't think I ever even told you why I was mad at you that time. I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you really. It was so stupid, it was a tiny little thing, well. Maybe to you, but not to me. So I decided that it wasn't really going to go anywhere with you, and Lavender, like I said, she was just there. She's not like you, you see. There wasn't anything special about her. She was also bloody annoying to tell you the truth. You were never like that. You listened to me. You talked to me. You made me smile just by being in the room._

_And let's face it – there was a reason I ended up hiding from Lavender at the end._

_I don't know if it was Lavender showing up today that upset you. If it was, I'm really sorry, it's all my fault. I should never have snogged her while I was in love with someone else._

_Can you forgive me?_

_Ron_

_xxx_

Ron re-read his letter, and for once, felt satisfied at what it said. Hopefully it would be enough for her. Enough for her to come out of her room and hug him until he couldn't breathe.

Ron folded the note carefully in half, and then in half again. He didn't want it coming unfolded by accident so anyone could read it. Taking out his quill again, he wrote "Hermione" across the front, taking care to spell her name right.

After all, if he got that wrong, he'd have no chance.

He opened his bedroom door carefully, checking to see if there was anyone outside. There wasn't. He crept along the landing towards Hermione's door, and placed the note carefully outside it. She'd find it when she came out, he thought. She'd find it, and she'd read it, and then, at last, she'd know for sure how he felt about her.

And maybe that would help him get that damn second kiss.


	10. Ten

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N – Penultimate chapter… oh the sadness. And this story had received over 100 reviews! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

_Ten._

Hermione regretted her decision to walk out on Ron almost the minute she got back to the Burrow. It was stupid, she thought, stupid, and immature, and over-dramatic, and there had been no need for it. She had never wanted to become one of those girls who thrived on drama – who invented reasons to get upset to gain attention, or to get people to feel sorry for them. After all, she had had enough to cope with during the last few months.

She just wished she had been able to deal with the situation with Ron in a better way.

He probably thought she was a complete idiot, she realised sadly. That was why he hadn't tried to talk to her. He didn't want her anymore. Not now he'd realised what a complete headcase she was.

She realised she couldn't even begin to explain to him how she was feeling. She knew that even if she tried, she would end up stuttering and butchering whatever she had prepared to say, confusing herself and Ron further. He didn't deserve that, she decided. He deserved so much better. He deserved a girl like Lavender. Someone confident, and sure of themselves, who wouldn't overreact to the slightest thing, and who wasn't afraid to tell him how she felt. Because Hermione was afraid. She didn't even know how she would begin. She couldn't just walk up to him and just casually mention that she'd been in love with him for so long. She couldn't just drop that she saw him as the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with into a conversation about Quidditch.

It suddenly struck her that she should write about how she felt. She'd never been one for keeping a diary, unless it was an exam revision schedule or a device for noting down important dates, but all of a sudden it seemed the perfect thing to do. If she wrote down how she was feeling, it would help get her emotions in order and calm her down. After all, she mused as she looked for her favourite quill, she always felt better after writing an essay.

Using a brand new piece of parchment, bought only a few days before, Hermione began a letter to Ron.

_Dear Ron,_

_I will understand if you don't want to read this. You probably don't think I'm worth the trouble any more. That's what I'd be thinking right now. _

_I don't know why seeing Lavender talking to you upset me so much. I suppose its because I know I'll never even compare to someone like her. It's hard to believe anyone would ever want me when there are people like her around. People who always know what to say, people who don't need to get the best marks in everything they do to persuade themselves they aren't useless – in other words people who are better than me in every way. I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself, but I've always been like that. While I was wearing the Horcrux locket, I could feel all these doubts coming to the front of my mind, like how you didn't want to spend time with me, and how I would never be a good witch because I'm a Muggle-born, and that the Snatchers would soon catch me, and anyway, I'd be useless helping Harry anyway, so it would be better if I left. I sort of knew it wasn't true, but something made me believe it all. And then you left, and I thought you really didn't care about me, and the locket had been right, and I'd never be happy because I'd lost you, and I swear, I thought my heart had broken. _

_I can't even believe I'm saying this to you, it's so embarrassing. Especially this part. I think you might be the best thing that ever happened to me. Seriously. You're the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. It sounds so pathetic. I always swore to myself I wouldn't let that happen to me. I always thought to myself, who needs love anyway?_

_Well Ron, it turns out I do._

_As long as it's with you._

_I hate how I sound here. But can I just say, you are the only person I would even consider sounding like that for. I know we probably didn't get off on the best ever start, but to be honest, you didn't look like the man I'd end up falling in love with when I first stepped into that compartment. I'm glad things change. _

_I'm not even going to describe how everything changed, because I can't even pinpoint when it happened. It doesn't matter anyway, because I highly doubt you even want someone like me as a girlfriend anyway. You're so kind-hearted, you make me laugh, and when you hold me I feel so happy I sometimes think it can't be real. And I guess it never really was. It's all my fault really. You deserve someone better._

_Well, if you change your mind about me, just say. And if you can't, then just say as well. Because even if we can't be together, in that way, I'd really like us to stay friends. Because you're the best friend I've ever had. Even though we argue, a lot, I know it's because you care. Well, at least I think it is. I hope it is. _

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

_xxxx_

Hermione looked over the words, hating how it made her sound so desperate, so needy. Even though, she realised, that was what she was. She had come to need Ron, she needed to know he'd be there for her, and that she'd be able to be there for him. She needed him to hold her, to stroke her hair, to hold her hand, to keep her safe. And everything she'd written in her neat, curved handwriting was the absolute truth.

It really hurt her to feel so helpless. Getting involved with another person meant just that – that she couldn't have complete control, as they would have their opinions, their thoughts, and their decisions counted too.

But then there was a good side to it all, she thought to herself, as she found an envelope for her letter. Even the memory of Ron's lips on hers during the battle made her nervous, yet joyful at the same time. The way that, for one mad moment, she had truly believed that if she had carried on kissing him then everything would be okay, and they would both survive, and she would never have to feel alone again.

She performed the charm to seal the envelope, so that only Ron would be able to open it, and addressed the front with the words "Ronald Weasley". Somehow, writing his name made everything seems as if it would be alright. The way the 'R' in his first name curled, and how special it looked to her when she had written it.

She opened the door carefully, dreading actually having to see him. Then she would have to give him the letter in person, and she would have to watch him read it, and see him smile when he realised he didn't actually have to pretend he liked her at all, and he could be free.

She bent down and placed the envelope so that it was leaning against his bedroom door. She contemplated knocking on the door and then retreating to her bedroom, to make sure he would read it, but something made her pause. Then, that same something made her turn around.

She noticed a small, folded piece of paper just outside the room she had just left, with her name written across the front. Her heart started to beat faster, as she retrieved her own letter and took the note back into the room, closing the door behind her.

Hermione walked slowly over to her bed, nervously anticipated the content of the note. She unfolded it, her hands trembling, and quickly read through the messy, spidery writing that she recognised immediately as Ron's.

A smile began to creep across her lips as she read, tears shining in her swollen eyes. As she reached the final paragraph, she started to giggle to herself. She had been wrong entirely. He didn't resent her, he didn't want to be just friends. He wanted her… he loved her.

She could feel the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks, her hands clasped to her mouth. She quickly reread the letter, looking for some kind of catch, but there was nothing. He didn't care that she wasn't a girl like Lavender. And he felt the same way as her. He wanted her with him as much as she did.

Ripping her letter in half, she took out a new piece of parchment, and scribbled a reply, her heart in her mouth. She returned to the landing, and pushed the parchment under Ron's door, knocked softly, and waited.


	11. Eleven

Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N – OMG last chapter. I really really really don't want this story to end, I have absolutely loved writing it, and I think I may even have to start another one. But I felt this one had come to its natural end and if I tried to continue it wouldn't be as good. Thank you to my regular readers and reviewers, you know who you are. I am just amazed by how positively people have reacted to this story, so thank you so much.

_Eleven._

Ron didn't think he had been so nervous in his entire life. Not even when he was trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, or even during the final battle. He hadn't really thought about what could possibly go wrong then. He hadn't wanted to. But as he waited for Hermione to respond to his letter, every possible scenario that was playing in his head involved her laughing at his sentiment and walking off into the sunset with Viktor Krum.

But he didn't regret writing that note, not one bit. He'd never write something like that again, that was for sure, but if she didn't accept what it said, then at least he would know for sure that he tried, and that if she didn't want to be with him, there wasn't anything he could do.

Suddenly, he heard something. Something moving outside. But the sound disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. He lay back on his bed. Surely she would come and tell him in person when she'd finished reading the note. She'd want to dump him in person, he was sure. Hermione wouldn't be so cruel as to leave him in the dark, and let his imagination work overtime. Maybe he should have told her in person. Who was he kidding though? He knew he'd end up mangling his words. After all, it had taken him years to even admit he liked her. To tell her he loved her, in person, no, that was too huge.

There it was again. He'd definitely heard something this time. A knock on his door. It hadn't been loud, but he had been able to hear it easily. He heaved himself off the bed, his legs suddenly heavy. He didn't want to know what she thought any more. It had been a stupid idea, she would obviously just laugh at him, and who was he to think a letter would solve everything? Surely he wasn't that naïve. Surely he wasn't so stupid as to think that Hermione would ever have any real feelings towards him.

He went to open the door, but first, noticed a small scrap of parchment on the floor. He bent down to pick it up and throw it away, but there was something written on it. One word.

The word was "Yes".

Ron frowned. Yes what? It was in Hermione's handwriting, that was for sure. Was it in response to his letter? What had it even said? He couldn't seem to remember. He'd asked a question, obviously…

He remembered with a jolt. She had read the letter. And she forgave him Hermione, the love of his life, thought of him in the same way he thought of her.Feeling his face crack into a wide grin, he flung open the door.

Hermione was waiting for him, her eyes red, but she was smiling. She looked almost guilty, Ron thought. If she had been joking, he didn't know what he'd do… but then again, he didn't know what he'd do if she had been telling the truth.

"Did you mean it?" Ron asked breathlessly, waving the parchment at her.

She nodded slowly, her eyes glittering with what Ron realised was pure joy.

"You sure?"

"Yes." She whispered, wiping away fresh tears that ran in steady tracks down her flushed face.

"That's good then."

Hermione opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but then closed it again. Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

Ron stood, watching her, not quite knowing what to do. He reached out and hugged her close to him, as she sobbed into his chest. I could stay like this forever, Ron thought, as he stroked her hair. It almost felt as if he were connected to her, as if they had suddenly become one person.

"I'm so, so, so sorry Ron." Hermione sobbed, her voice muffled.

"S'okay. I'm sorry too."

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"That you were in love with me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, as long as we both mean it…"

Hermione pulled away from the embrace, and looked up into Ron's brilliant blue eyes. He swallowed. This was it. This was the moment. And if he didn't do it now, it might never get done, he needed to kiss her, she was waiting… why couldn't he just do it? Why'd he have to be so scared? Why'd he have to think so much?

He shook his head slowly, feeling her eyes on him. Her eyes, they were so, brown. Brown with flecks of gold, he realised. He'd never noticed that before. He hadn't been this close to Hermione before. He could see every individual freckle scattered upon her cheeks, the freckles that couldn't be noticed from further away, the way her eyelashes weren't black as he'd always thought, they were in fact dark brown. And her lips. Her beautiful lips, Ron thought.

She was still looking at him. Her smile fading. Bloody hell, I actually have to do this… he thought, before moving his hand down from its position in her hair to rest on her face, just below her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. Her eyes moved sideways, before looking back up at Ron, who suddenly found that he couldn't smile anymore. It was all, suddenly, deadly serious, and he knew exactly what he had to do. He leaned in, and their lips met.

It felt just as good as he remembered. He could somehow feel heat, and electricity, spreading through him. Suddenly, every thought, every idea, every worry seemed to drop out of his head. It was just him and Hermione, in the moment; her arms were wrapped tightly around him, and he could feel her heart beating faster.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, the kiss ended. Ron opened his eyes, feeling as if he was in some kind of a trance. What had just happened didn't feel connected to him in any way, as if it had just happened to someone else. It had been too perfect, too amazing to be part of Ronald Weasley's life. He could feel himself wobbling, as if his legs couldn't support him. He realised he needed to say something. He'd never been good at saying how he felt. Particularly when his mind seemed to be thinking about only one thing – Hermione.

"Erm, well, yeah..." he stuttered. Hermione giggled, her cheeks pink. Ron could feel his own face turning as red as his hair. God she was beautiful.

"Good, um, second kiss…" he added, hating how he didn't seem to be in control of his voice – it was almost as if he was thirteen again, and his voice was breaking. He continued, trying to steady himself.

"Yes, Hermione, very, um, good, thanks, yeah, erm, wow. Pretty, yeah. You're pretty."

"Shut up Ron, and kiss me again." came the reply.

Ron shrugged, before happily obliging.

A/N – Hope you enjoyed this story! I am starting a sequel, with Ron and Hermione etc. going back to Hogwarts for their seventh year, but it won't be up for a while, so keep checking back, or put me on Author Alert or something. Again, thanks so much for reading.

xxx


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